This video combines my great loves of music and baseball with my favorite band and my wife's favorite baseball team. Love this interview with James Hetfield
Coffee and bacon wake me and I jolt to a sitting position. I struggle to free myself from an immense pile of pink and white and orchid silk sheets. Mixing with scents of breakfast, I smell fresh cut flowers and lavender. Scanning the room, I don’t see Ella or her bodyguard. The television reports financial news and the window facing northwest lets in a mighty breeze.
My hands explore to count toes and fingers and limbs to ensure I remain intact. To my own amazement, all my appendages remain. Rising, my body groans with soreness and a sharp pain grips into my abdomen. Did I get into a drunken bar-fight? Or a major car accident? Trying to rub the tension from my neck, I follow the smell of coffee and find the staircase.
The paintings lining the staircase must be of her husband’s family, for I can see his likeness in most of these portraits. I read the names and dates, which progress towards the present day as one descends the stairs. Stopping, I study the portrait of a young brunette woman that bears a stunning resemblance to the painting outside Ella’s bedroom.
“Margaret Holden.” I hear a voice speak. It’s the old man, watching me from the entrance to the library.
“Beautiful,” I say, staring at the portrait. Dark brown eyes, almost black, dominate the face, with thin pouty lips and a tiny neckline.
“She was,” George agrees. Turning to face him, I see he carries a drink tray and on it a solitary martini.
Taking it off the tray, I lift the glass towards Margaret Holden. “Cheers, Beautiful. Tell me, what happened to her?”
Without a hint of emotion, George answers, “Suicide by hanging.”
I sip the drink and stare into the eyes of the portrait. A rich woman didn’t want to live. Such a sad story. “Where is Ella?”
He indicates the library with a sweep of his arm. Shrugging, I finish the drink and place it on the tray.
“Bring two more,” I say and enter the library. I see her at the desk writing and pause for a moment to watch her. Every few seconds she flips hair off the tablet, grunting each time at the interruption. Approaching the desk, I wrap my arms around her shoulders, hoping to surprise her. I kiss her neck and the top of her head, inhaling of the scent of apricots and peaches.
“Good morning to you,” she says without turning to face me. “You’re in a happy mood.”
“How could I not be happy?” I say, squeezing her. The silk of her pajamas and the hint of lilacs threaten to overload my mind with sensations. My fingers run through blonde hair while I watch her write.
“Tell me why you’re happy,” she insists, finally looking up at me. The light reflects blue sparkles in her eyes and I can’t answer. Instead, I kiss her forehead and savor the sweet taste of her skin.
Lots of news this morning and we begin with the latest in the Donald Sterling controversy. The embattled Clippers owner now has open competition as the famed boxer Floyd Mayweather has expressed interest in owning the LA Clippers. How much is there to this rumor? That's hard to say, but the sharks are circling Donald Sterling in the assumption he'll be forced to sell the team. I'll keep following this story.
The second story is about STAR WARS!!! The cast has been chosen by Lucas Films and shared with the masses of adoring fans that will pack theaters coast to coast no matter if the film bombs and is a complete mess. I am one of those that will buy a ticket regardless of critical reception. I will always be a Star Wars fanatic!! I can't wait for the movie.
The last news story of the day is a PSA video released by the White House on sexual assault, primarily focused on college campuses. Here is the PSA.
There are many out there that still need to hear this message. Please pass it on. Thank you.
From Las Vegas
Stephen John Moran
Read the first part - MY WRITING PROCESS- Anatomy of a Day
MY WRITING PROCESS
MY FICTIONAL WORLD
At a very early stage, I wanted all of my writings to be connected in some way, in the vein of Faulkner's mythic Yoknapatawpha County, the setting of most of his important novels and stories. I was eager to build a 'fictional world' as he had, one containing enough characters to sustain itself. Stephen King built a similar 'world' in his twisted nightmare vision of Maine.
In all my early stories, I used similar settings, locations and a rotating cast of regular characters that I'd come to refer to as narrators. The first narrator of them all is the current "new' entrant into the ring- James. My first major story, the one that stamps the date I said 'I'm a writer' is James' introduction story - Shakespeare, Dickens and the Bible.
That story served as a basis for the entire fictional world, a universe of killers, depressed mad-men, sad clowns, and the carnage created by the collision of lead narrators.
Each narrator inhabits a novel of his/her own, the base facts of which 'rhyme' with the ABC's of the other novels. The novels are interwoven in the following key ways:
Side characters appear in multiple novels and bring 'memory' with them in each.
A setting/home/workplace can be used many times in different capacities.
The main character must be from the 'universe' and have a home city from one of three select 'areas'
1) the Millville, Ma. area. My hometown. Most of the narrators are born in this town. Ella was born in Uxbridge.
2) City writers- Writers that live in the city, slumming it with the poor. Providence, Worcester, NYC, Boston, and Las Vegas serve as 'second characters' in those first person narratives.
3) Upstate New York - All of the villians come from Upstate New York. I have zero idea how this started.
The purpose is to create the literary version of the musical premise called 'harmonics'.
As a reader encounters similar locations through a new narrator (set of eyes), the memories from the first novel should 'ring' in harmony with the current story-line. That sure is the hope, that it all meshes together to form a tapestry worth hanging on the wall.
I hope you enjoyed this look at my writing process. In the next post, I'll introduce all the major narrators, the novels each are in...and how they all fit together. I'm trying to fix a map, but no promises.
If you liked this post, pass it on into the internets!!!
from Las Vegas,
Stephen John Moran
READ PART THREE - THE NARRATORS
I've posted about this controversy twice. Find those articles here and here. Finally, the #NBA responded. And a mighty response it is-- A LIFETIME Ban and 2.5 MILLION DOLLAR Fine, the maximum allowed by league rules. The commissioner also appealed to the Board of Governors of the NBA to force Donald Sterling to sell the Clippers. More information as it becomes available.
Bank of America is one of the most widely held stocks and the recent plunge has many worried. The company recently made changes to its Dividend due to accounting mistakes. Read a story on that here with stock analysis. Speak to your own financial adviser before making any action on the information in any article.
Here is the chart of BANK OF AMERICA. The Question is- Can #BAC hold at 15 after the brutal sell-off of twelve percent from recent highs? Stay tuned.
Donald Sterling's racist comments that were revealed to the public via a taped phone conversation with his GF V. Stiviano have blown up into a media firestorm, with almost all major #NBA Persons condemning the Clipper Owner's opinions. Here is a link to an article at TMZ that details the phone call with block quotes.
I also included the YouTube link of the extended phone conversation if you want to listen to the entire thing for yourself and not take TMZ's account for it.
I call for all Clipper and NBA fans to stop spending money that will benefit this owner. If this man's words anger you enough to act: pass this post on or one of the many like it asking for others to boycott his team.
Stephen John Moran
I tire of waiting and rise from the bed, striding towards the door before my courage wanes. Placing my hand on the knob, I turn it and smile with surprise when the door opens. Have I been holding myself captive this entire time? She never instructed me to remain in the room.
Taking a few steps into the hallway, I stop at the sound my shoes make on the marble floor. I hear nothing and wait several moments to be sure. I walk towards Ella’s bedroom, eyes darting about me in search of movement. A few paces from her door I see a portrait of a man of middle age, with dark eyes and hair and I wonder if it’s her husband. It matches the description I remember from the story.
I hear a door close nearby and spin to scan the hallway. Did the man from the painting just scurry around the corner? Are my eyes playing tricks? I abandon any sense of sneaking and run after the apparition. The hallway ends in a T and I veer right, following the sound.
I find myself in a new hallway, one as long as a bowling alley with the walls of both sides line with portraits of a young, blonde women closing resembling Ella. Did someone make this section for me? Taking my time, I examine the faces as I creep towards the lone door at the end of the hall. My footsteps echo and I know my presence will not be a surprise to the resident of this room.
Reaching the door, I rap the oak three times and cross my arms to wait. I hear nothing from within and rap the door again. Still no response. Removing my mobile from a pocket, I fire a quick text to Ella. Perhaps a return message will give me a clue to her whereabouts.
When will I see you?
Shaking the knob, I discover the door is not locked and once again I wonder at the security of this mansion. My phone buzzes before I can enter the bedroom.
Whenever you wish. I’m in the library. Your door is not locked *wink*
Perfect. Hurrying inside, I close the door behind me. The room belongs to a man, I can see that from the multitude of sports paraphernalia covering the walls of the first room. Black leather couches surround wide-screen televisions, all tuned to sports contests. I see a classic game on one screen, a contest between the New York Mets and the Boston Red Sox from the 1986 World Series.
On the television, I see a New York Met batter step into the box to face the Red Sox pitcher. The Mets are down to their last out, trailing by two runs, with an 0-2 count on the batter. The game feels hopeless watching the replay. Gary Carter laces a two out, two strike single and the crowd cheers nervously.
“I remember that day as if it were yesterday.”
I hear a man’s voice say from behind me. The tone is all bass and I feel a cold blast of fear down my spine and a flashing thought this may be my last moment on earth before a blunt object connects with my skull.
Stephen Moran lives in Las Vegas with his beautiful wife, baby Kiana, and two dogs.